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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28130532">When it falls into place</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverNothing/pseuds/NeverNothing'>NeverNothing</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Getting Together, Kinda?, M/M, University, YouTube, set during timeskip, they did know they were dating</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:21:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,535</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28130532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverNothing/pseuds/NeverNothing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenma reclined into his gaming chair, removing his headphones, and stretched again. He looked up at Kuroo, a small but satisfied smile on his lips, his voice was soft and slightly scratchy from the hours he had just spent talking. “Yeah, I’m done.”</p><p>Kuroo took a beat too long to respond. He cleared his throat. Kenma’s cheeks flushed. “Great, dinner arrived and I’m starving.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>229</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Kuroken Christmas Exchange 2020, My favorite haikyuu fics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>When it falls into place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/feihart/gifts">feihart</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here is my kuroken christmas exchange gift for <a href="https://twitter.com/bakchimin">bakchimin</a>. I hope you enjoy this piece I wrote for you. &lt;3</p><p>Merry christmas!</p><p>edit bc I can't believe I forgot this: thank you so much for beta-reading <a href="https://twitter.com/_no0emiie">noemie ♥</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The loud banging of a door just down the hall ripped him out of his trance and Kenma realized he had been emptily staring at the screen of his laptop for the past half hour. He sighed, and closed the document after saving. There was no way he would make progress on his assignment tonight. This was the sixth time he had zoned out in the four hours since he had sat down to work on his essay, writing only half a page. He was now officially two and a half pages into his fifteen pages assignment that was due that sunday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was wednesday now. Fridays and Saturdays were his designated days for streaming. It was clear to him that he would have to pull an allnighter to make it in time if he did not start making actual progress soon and he definitely was not looking forward to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No success?” His roommate asked. He had just exited the bath judging by his still wet hair. It was curling more than usual and seemed even darker than in its dry state. Then, his roommate slid the door that seperated the rest of their room from their kitchenette shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His roommate, Sakusa Kiyoomi, was probably the best roommate his university could have decided to stick him with. Despite his exhausting cleaning routines that Kenma had to go along with, Sakusa was mostly quiet, calm and not much of a people person. The only visitor he ever got was his cousin and even that was a rare case. They had played against each other during nationals in Kenma’s third year, and considering the small circle of volleyball players they both were part of, they knew each other enough to not be complete strangers. It was good enough. Sakusa’s judgemental gaze urged Kenma to take regular showers but that was probably for the better anyway. It spoke of Kenma’s growth that he was not as bothered by it like he would have been only two years ago. Knowing Sakusa definitely helped in this regard. Otherwise, Kenma really could not complain much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo joked about it making him a more functional human being. Kenma hated that he was somewhat right about that assessment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Practice for their university’s volleyball team also kept Sakusa outside a lot. Together with their rather mismatched schedule, they really only saw each other in the evening and the morning. Both of them were not what one might consider a morning person, so it was a silent understanding between them that any communication was to be avoided during those times. They lived beside each other peacefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Kenma finally answered and leaned back. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sakusa hummed and hung the towel that had been slung over his shoulder over the chair besides Kenma to dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma slammed his laptop shut, giving up on any potential progress completely, and hastened to the newly vacated bath to get ready for bed himself. Sakusa would demand a light-out within the next half hour and Kenma knew by experience that he would be too lazy to move once Sakusa had settled in for the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kenma left the bath only ten minutes later, Sakusa was already in his bed, reading one of the science fiction books he habitually denied reading. Kenma himself plopped down on his bed, grabbing for his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he knew it, he was checking the comments on the video he had uploaded before torturing himself into trying to work on his essay, the low thrum of contentment unfurled in his stomach. While he never said it out loud, this was something he thoroughly enjoyed about his work - to see the engagement of his viewers with what he had made. Replying to some comments, he was delighted to see the positive reactions to the more experimental, newly released and western game he was playing - Undertale - and the demands for a next episode. Recording it had been a gamble on his part and he was relieved it seemed to pay off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Biting the inside of his cheek in thought, he sent a quick text.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To: kuro </span>
</p><p>
  <span>23:51 can i come over to record tmrw?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ever since Kenma had moved into the dorm when he had started college, he had housed most of the equipment he had gathered ever since his career on YouTube picked up at Kuroo’s apartment due to the lack of space of his own room. Sharing twenty three-square-metres of a room with someone else made it almost impossible for him to record. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though the layout of their room was decent enough, there was still no space for something even close to an office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their room offered a designated area used for cooking featuring not only one but two stove tops, and a tiny bath with a door positioned in a way that it was impossible to leave when  the fridge in their kitchenette was open. These were considered luxurious as far as dorm experiences went. The sliding door that led to their actual room was a nice bonus, since it prevented the smell of late night ramen from spreading too much - much to Sakusa’s relief. The two beds were on opposite sides, small wardrobes located at their foot and an extended desk on the opposite side of the entrance. They were supposed to share the desk as the two chairs that were placed neatly beside each other suggested. Kenma had no room for his equipment without becoming a bother. Their desk was already filled with their respective class material as it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not only the lack of space but also the noise would make it difficult to record at his dorm. The thin walls made it impossible to get a good night’s rest on a weekend and Kenma had developed a peeve about his sound design during his time in high school. He was not willing to compromise on it now. All in all, his current living situation was not optimal for his job but the university was not willing to let him move out of the dorm just yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo, moving out of the dorm for his second year of college, had moved in with Bokuto. Due to Koutarou’s contract as a professional volleyball player, they were able to afford a decent apartment which also doubled as Kenma’s office for the time he was obligated to live in the dormitory. Kenma had cursed his universities attempts at making their students forcibly get along since orientation, relieved their restriction to live in dorms would be lifted once they’d reach their second year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for now, he paid a small amount of rent for Koutarou’s and Kuroo’s apartment, getting a small room as a recording space in return. Both of the rightful inhabitants spent most of the time outside of their apartment anyway, so it was mostly quiet enough. It worked. As long as Kenma scheduled his recording times and streams for the time Koutarou was at practice, anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did not expect an immediate reply to the message he had sent. Kuroo was busy enough as it was - and an early sleeper at that. The quick answer surprised him, a smile tugging on his lips, seeing Kuroo’s name pop up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From: kuro</span>
</p><p>
  <span>23:53 sure</span>
</p><p>
  <span>23:53 got class til 6 let yourself in</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If Kenma remembered correctly, Kuroo was talking about his advanced marketing class - his favourite of the classes he took this year and probably the class he enjoyed the most despite the immense workload that went along with it due to the project-like nature of their work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The professor that led the class was encouraging her students to reach out and start building connections, making it time consuming like no other class Kenma had ever even heard of. Kuroo had been complaining about it a lot but the wide grin on his face and the conspiratorial glint in his eyes when he talked about it told Kenma he did not really mind it. So far, Kuroo had already spent hours telling Kenma about his ideas and plans, while Kenma had only listened, trying to control his face but failing miserably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way Kuroo talked about his project, his passion, was something Kenma loved to see. It was impossible not to smile when confronted with it. Of course the idiot found a way to make it about volleyball and had already started negotiations with the Japan Volleyball Association. He was putting all he had into his aspirations and he wanted to tell Kenma all about it. Kenma never really minded listening to Kuroo’s voice, especially when it was tinged with excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would be completely exhausted once he’d arrive back at his apartment tomorrow. If Kenma remembered correctly, which he probably did, Koutarou would be out tomorrow evening.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To: kuro</span>
</p><p>
  <span>23:53 alright i’ll order dinner</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From: kuro</span>
</p><p>
  <span>23:56 aw you care ♥</span>
</p><p>
  <span>23:56 bo drank all of these monstrosities you store in our fridge btw so there are none left</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kuroo must be talking about the energy drinks he had left over after his last 24h-stream. Kenma chuckled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m turning off the light,” Sakusa interrupted his musings. He was already leaning over to reach for the switch, and his eyebrow raised pointedly when he looked at Kenma. It was only now that Kenma realised he was smiling. Immediately, he controlled his expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone vibrated, announcing the arrival of another message, so Kenma only hummed in reply to his roommate. He was too busy focusing on his phone, relieved the darkness hid most of his smile while his phone only illuminated the upper part of his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From: kuro</span>
</p><p>
  <span>23:59 how many of these did you leave here anyway?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>23:59 i swear bo was living off of them. no idea why he even started drinking them. bo and even more energy is not a good combo let me tell you i sent him out to run around the block like ten times</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To: kuro</span>
</p><p>
  <span>00:00 for an athlete he’s pretty set on ruining his health</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From: kuro</span>
</p><p>
  <span>00:00 you aren’t one to talk</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To: kuro</span>
</p><p>
  <span>00:01 not an athlete</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From: kuro</span>
</p><p>
  <span>00:02 says the e-athlete</span>
</p><p>
  <span>00:03 i know you still work out regularly don’t try to hide it</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kenma scrunched his nose, hating the fact that Kuroo was right. It wasn’t as frequent as during his volleyball days but Kenma forced himself to go </span>
  <em>
    <span>jog</span>
  </em>
  <span> at least three times a week. The sacrifice one takes upon oneself for achieving one’s dreams, or whatever. Most of his teammates did the same and their management as well as coaching staff heavily supported it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To: kuro</span>
</p><p>
  <span>00:04 good night kuro</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was still smiling at his phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From: kuro</span>
</p><p>
  <span>00:05 love you too</span>
</p><p>
  <span>00:05 (you know i’m right)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>00:06 gn fr tho got an early class tmrw</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To: kuro</span>
</p><p>
  <span>00:10 i know</span>
</p><p>
  <span>00:10 see you tmrw</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Unwillingly, his eyes kept straying back to the first part of Kuroo’s last message. Waiting for a few minutes to see if Kuroo replied, Kenma put his phone away when none came, willing himself to not think too much into it, to ignore the flutter in his stomach. Wrapping himself up in his blanket, he tried to ignore the guy that was apparently trying to re-create an off-pitch version of the newest AKB48 release three doors over. It was unsettling but Kenma had grown accustomed to it, learning to sleep through it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished he was at Kuroo’s apartment already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next day met Kenma with an overzealous professor holding a lecture that almost bored Kenma to tears. He noticed the occasional glances he attracted, his look in a black sweater and comparably inconspicuous sweatpants still characteristic enough to be recognizable but the class was not disturbed. Thankfully, the lack of actual material gave him the opportunity to check emails and answer some at that. Trying once more to work on his assignment ended up semi-successfully with another half page written, rounding the number to a remarkable size of three.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was shortly after two in the  afternoon when Kenma unlocked the entrance to Kuroo’s and Koutarou’s apartment. Kenma had gotten a snack to eat on his way. This meant he had around fours hours to record until Kuroo arrived and forced him to take a break. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The backpack he had been carrying around for classes was quickly discarded by the entrance and Kenma only grabbed his 3Ds.  He planned to use it for recording later. Then, Kenma slipped into the slippers Kuroo had proclaimed his - unironically, they were bicolored and had cat ears. Kuroo had matching black ones. It was one of the first things Kuroo had bought when he moved into the apartment, dragging Kenma along with him. To be his advisor, he had proclaimed back then, even though Kenma ended up not doing much of the advising, spending more time laughing at Kuroo and trying not to think about how it felt like they were shopping for a shared apartment. That weekend had been harsh on his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Putting his shoes into the shoe cabinet, Kenma smiled at the assembled pictures that hung opposite of it. Kuroo had hung up a variety of pictures from their time in high school, of training camps, practices and matches. Lots of the pictures included Koutarou and Kuroo grinning into the camera but a remarkable amount portrayed Kenma as well. One of the pictures was taken when both Kuroo and him were still young and just started playing volleyball. Kuroo was staring into the viewfinder with a wide grin on his face, volleyball in hand. Kenma himself was standing half behind him. Kenma’s dad had taken that picture, Kenma clearly remembered. Beside it hung a picture of Fukurodani’s team from Koutarou’s time as a third year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kenma?” A loud voice boomed from inside the apartment. It was Koutarou.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through the kitchen, Kenma entered the living room where he met the athlete. Apparently, Koutarou was getting ready for practice, already dressed to go and scrambling to finish packing his bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi Koutarou,” Kenma greeted him back, head slanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t happen to know where my knee pads are, do you?” Koutarou was looking at him with wide eyes. For someone so huge, he seemed surprisingly small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma huffed and pointed to the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following his fingers, Koutarou ruffled his hair. “I don’t see them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the TV,” Kenma elaborated and Koutarou finally successfully acquired his gear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Koutarou must have forgotten the argument he and Kuroo had gotten into where Kuroo had complained about Koutarou’s strange tendencies. Somehow, most of the things Koutarou forgot about turned out to be found inside the shelf beneath their television. It was the safest guess whenever Koutarou was frantically looking for something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are a godsend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma hummed, humored. “Don’t forget your keys again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a bright grin, Koutarou held up the keyring that was fastened to his phone. “One step ahead of you.” Then he laughed. “Man, it really feels like you’re actually living here with us, y’know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The movement made his screen light up and Koutarou came as close to cursing as he ever did - which was not very close at all. With a yelp, he stumbled out of the door, shouting his goodbyes at Kenma that he was unable to make out. With a resounding thud, the entrance door fell shut and Kenma was left alone in the apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Koutarou left the apartment like a whirlwind, Kenma had not even fully arrived that he was hit with the whiplash the quick exchange had caused. Taking a breather and soaking in the sunlight that shined into the apartment, Kenma turned right to the door that usually remained shut and untouched by the true occupants of the apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was his office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While not huge, Kenma had just enough space for his equipment and lighting setup. Kuroo had helped him to soundproof the room. Given the fact that it was surrounded by the other rooms of the apartment, it had no window which was practical even if it did make Kenma lose his sense of time a lot. Ever since Koutarou had learned how expensive components of the small room were, he was terrified to enter it. This suited Kenma quite well, as he did not like people in his recording room anway. Kuroo, as so often, was one of the exceptions but even he knew that Kenma was better left alone once he’d disappearinto his office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After filling up his bottle of water, Kenma started up his computer and properly set up the space, moving a few lights around until he was satisfied. The room was gratifyingly silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma planned to record the next part of his Dragon Quest XIII series, since it was the one that gathered the most engagement recently. The 3DS version of this game had only recently been re-released. It had only been on the market for around a month now and Kenma took up a series of it the day of its release. He was around a quarter into the story. Playing it was fun and just challenging enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relieved by the warm welcome to the more experimental pick, he planned to film the second episode of Undertale, too. That type of game seemed to fit a longer format well, to help the story unfold. Comparable little editing that needed to be done in that case to ensure the flow of the story would not be interrupted too much. Except, well, the subtitles that he needed to add since the game was originally in English and the majority of his viewers was Japanese. The amount of work it would take tired him out only thinking about it. This was definitely the more work-intensive aspect of this series.  Together with the compilation of the scrimmages he would play the next day with his team, the videos for the following week would be done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That would mean he had one less bullet point on his endless to-do list to worry about. Hopefully, it would leave him with some time for his assignment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connecting his 3DS to his capture card, he started the recording with a sly glance at the camera filming his face. He got lost into the gameplay, the dynamics of commenting and the challenges of the fights he was fighting for the next two hours, until he changed games. By the time he stopped recording, he had arrived at the halfway point of the case of the mysteriously vanishing horse and was satisfied with his progress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>During the short break, Kenma quickly checked his phone - Kuroo had replied with a stupid joke and Kenma hated that it actually made him laugh - and placed the order for his and Kuroo’s food in two and a half hours time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he started up the next game, he was faced with the emotional turmoil of having to fight Toriel, getting to see the world for the first time and meeting Papyrus and Sans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, he’s actually sparing me,” Kenma commented, his head tilted when the option showed up, translating on the go. So far, he did not have a single kill and he was wondering for how much longer the game would let him continue this. “I was wondering what would happen, especially after our fight with Toriel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chuckling, Kenma read the dialogue in the original English, then switched languages. “His pretentiousness reminds me of someone, to be honest. It’s kind of endearing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The monologue progressed and the game showed two options. ‘Let’s be friends’ or ‘What a loser.” Kenma chortled. “They are not packing any punches, huh. We can either befriend him or straight up bully him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma hummed in thought, gazing up at the camera again. “This is the make or break everyone. Should I go the good-guy round?” He straightened in his seat. “Actually, I think I’ll end the game here for now, and I’ll wait for your comments on this. Or I’ll make a poll on twitter or something. Anyway, my morality is in your hands. Don’t disappoint me too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you everyone who made it this far for watching. The translations you just saw if I didn’t completely mess up during editing are done mostly by myself so they might not be entirely accurate but we’ll make do. See you again next time. Don’t forget to like or subscribe if you want to see more, I appreciate it wildly.” With a small grin, Kenma waved at the camera, then stopped his recording.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stretching his arms to relax his muscles after sitting for such a long time, he checked whether everything went fine with the recording and then immediately saved a backup of the footage. Pulling another copy on an external hard drive, a knock pulled him out of his concentration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo’s head peeked in when Kenma made a noise that resembled permission, crooked grin in place. Already dressed in sweatpants and a sweater himself, he must have arrived quite some time ago. He raised a questioning eyebrow at Kenma when he realized he wasn’t recording. “You done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too fixated on his work, he hadn’t even heard Kuroo arrive at the apartment. A glance at the digital display revealed that it was already close to seven. Kenma had been working longer than he had been intending to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma reclined into his gaming chair, removing his headphones, and stretched again. He looked up at Kuroo, a small but satisfied smile on his lips, his voice was soft and slightly scratchy from the hours he had just spent talking. “Yeah, I’m done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo took a beat too long to respond. He cleared his throat. Kenma’s cheeks flushed. “Great, dinner arrived and I’m starving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Kenma leaned forward again, trying to shake the feeling off, his attention once again on his screen. “Let me close things up, I’ll be out in a few.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not bothering to close the door, Kuroo left Kenma to his own devices. Kenma lost no time closing out of the multiple programs that were still running, turning off his computer, screens and lights. Before he left his office, Kenma did another full body stretch and then joined Kuroo in the living room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The promotional art of my neighbor Totoro was staring at him from the television screen, </span>
  <em>
    <span>a town with an ocean view </span>
  </em>
  <span>playing through the speakers. Kuroo had pulled up a ghibli playlist on YouTube and arranged the dinner Kenma had ordered on the coffee table in front of the couch. The curtains that had allowed copious amounts of light to illuminate the room hours ago were now pulled shut. It was pretty much their usual biweekly relaxing evening setup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This also told Kenma that while Kuroo was probably tired from his day, it wasn’t too bad - Kuroo had the habit of pulling out a silly romcom when he was in the dire need of a pick-me-up. Up to this day, Kenma wasn’t sure if Kuroo actually liked them or if he just enjoyed seeing Kenma’s reactions when scenes got too corny for him to be able to bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo himself just exited the kitchen, a bottle of juice in one hand, a carafe of water in the other. He raised both to draw Kenma’s attention. “Are these okay or do you want beer or wine or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quipping, Kenma spread out on the couch. “Are you trying to make some under the drinking age drink, Kuro?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grinning, Kuroo urged Kenma to make space and joined him on the couch. “Just asking. It’s not like I am actually legal to drink myself yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma gasped. “Scandalous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breathing a laugh, Kuroo nudged him. “Living with Bo does have its quirks. It’s not like anyone actually listens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Especially in university.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo clicked his tongue. “Exactly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The answer is no, by the way,” Kenma belatedly remembered to answer the question. While it wasn’t that he had never drunk anything alcoholic yet - his first time was when he was visiting Kuroo in his first year of college, actually - he was not a big fan of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them had spent the night in Kuroo’s fortunately deserted dorms, cans of beer, a bad anime and lots to catch up on despite never really falling out of contact. The bitter taste was something he grew used to as the night progressed, and the fuzziness made him warm and giggly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they crawled into bed that night, Kuroo pulled him close. Kenma fell asleep with his head resting upon Kuroo’s chest with a giddy contentment, their hands touching, and no longer sure it was only the alcohol that caused him to feel that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was probably that night that Kenma fully understood he was in love with Kuroo. When he woke up the next morning, the realization settled deep inside his stomach, making him feel warm all over. There was no big fanfare, it just made sense. It did not stop Kenma from joking about the mess of Kuroo’s hair, though Kuroo’s rough laugh made his heart flutter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured as much,” Kuroo teased, lightly pinching Kenma’s side and making him squirm. Kenma batted his hand in reply but sat up as Kuroo had intended. “How did you know I was craving rice, by the way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo opened the takeout box, donburi still steaming and making Kenma’s mouth water. He had ordered one with beef and vegetables, another one with tonkatsu.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shrugging, Kenma grabbed a pair of chopsticks. “Just didn’t feel like pizza today. This is as traditional as it can get. You like this kind of food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As always, no one knows me better than you,” Kuroo was laughing again, sounding both joking and serious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma observed him from the corner of his eye but did not comment. Only last year, this comment would have made him flush. By now, he had grown used to the way Kuroo’s words would make him feel all tingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they started eating, Kuroo fell into a detailed description of his class. He had made decent progress with the proposal and had arranged a meeting with one associate from the JVA. His gestures grew wider and more hurried in his passion and Kenma smiled around a bite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though Kenma mostly responded with murrs and hums while he was picking away at his food, Kuroo wasn’t deterred as he retold a funny story one of his classmates had told him only earlier or how Koutarou somehow managed to burn their rice this morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had already finished eating, the first notes of </span>
  <em>
    <span>merry go round of life</span>
  </em>
  <span> were just starting to play that Kuroo asked him about his day. Kenma, in turn, mentioned his class, his recording and the work he still had left to do - editing and working on his assignment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to help with the translation? It’s a lot of work to do by yourself, you don’t have that much time,” Kuroo asked as he was gathering their take-out boxes to shove them aside. He would bring them to the kitchen later. Kenma hadn’t finished his food, but he rarely did anyway so Kuroo didn’t even comment on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have that much time either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grinning, Kuroo raised his eyebrow at him. “But my English is better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma considered him with a stink eye but didn’t reply. Kuroo had a bad habit to care too much for others. Instead of saying anything, he pulled his feet up the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m serious. You need an editor, Kenma, you can’t keep this up.” The note of worry in Kuroo’s tone made Kenma pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His answer was honest and yielding in the face of it. “I know, I’m looking. It’s not that easy to find someone. Considering my uploading schedule, it wouldn’t even be a fulltime job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo only sighed but let the issue drop, picking up a different sore subject. “How stressed are you feeling about your assignment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a groan, Kenma let himself fall against the cushioned back of the couch. “I don’t wanna think about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>More than that, he just wanted to spend a relaxing evening with Kuroo. It always made him feel better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to work on it now? I have some notes to go through, too. You work better when someone’s around.” That wasn’t quite true. He only worked better if Kuroo was the one around. Kenma had a tendency to get annoyed at other people’s presence. Years of doing homework besides each other had changed that, however - if only in Kuroo’s case.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Kuroo might be right, maybe his presence would be the right kind of stimulating. The progress - or rather lack of - was making him antsy. “Is that fine? You had an exhausting day as it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, it’s like we’re back in highschool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That was not even two years ago, Kuro, don’t be dramatic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” Kuroo whined, “Humor me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma caved. “Fine, I’ll go and get my laptop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he returned from the entrance, this time his bag in hand, Kuroo had already grabbed his own laptop and had apparently pulled off his sweater, hanging it over the couch. It left him in a white shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They settled down once again beside each other, close enough that their thighs were brushing and that Kenma felt the movement of Kuroo’s arm when he was typing. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to conserve the moment, before he took a deep breath, opened his eyes and set to work himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soft piano music of ghibli tracks was accompanying them, only idle comments and the clacking of their keyboards filling the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For quite a long time, Kuroo was absorbed in his own work, only looking up a few times to glance at Kenma until he saw the minute crease in Kenma’s forehead. Then, he leaned forward to see what he was doing. His cheeks were squished against Kenma’s shoulder as he squinted at the screen, trying to figure out how Kenma was progressing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sudden closeness didn’t startle Kenma as much as he would have expected. He did notice something different, however. “Did you get a new cologne?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a slightly muskier smell to him now that Kenma had not noticed before. Had his sweater masked it before?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh? No, I don’t think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You smell different.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Kuroo sniffed his own clothes. His forehead crinkled in thought. “Oh! Maybe it’s this thing my classmate splashed me with today? That might have been cologne, I think. Does it smell bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma’s nose crinkled at the mention of Kuroo’s classmates but he let it go just as quickly. The smell wasn’t that overpowering. “It’s fine, it still smells like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The expression on Kuroo’s face turned into one of his indescribably fond ones. Kenma had to avert his gaze, feeling too vulnerable. His face burned. And he thought he had gotten used to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to gather himself, Kenma focused back on the task at hand, letting the conversation drizzle out. Only a few moments later, he heard the clacker of the keyboard turn up again - Kuroo was continuing with his work, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Kenma had made decent progress planning his assignment, managing to even type another two pages. He was still less than halfway done but at least he had an idea where he was going with it now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, now more content than desperate, he shut his laptop and slumped into Kuroo’s side. All that thinking added with the recording he had done earlier had tired him out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though Kuroo still had his laptop on his lap, he wrapped his arm around Kenma. Looking down at Kenma’s form, who was burying his face into his side, he chuckled. “It’s late, do you wanna stay over?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, Kenma only grumbled, unwilling to move. Then, he heaved himself back up, turning in Kuroo’s hold so that he was resting with his back against Kuroo’s side. Kuroo’s hand was resting on Kenma’s stomach. It was warm, a comfortable weight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma reached for his phone. “Yeah, let me just tell Sakusa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo only hummed while Kenma was typing, his own assignment long forgotten, idly tapping his fingers against Kenma’s stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To: Sakusa Kiyoomi</span>
</p><p>
  <span>22:49 did i miss roll call</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From: Sakusa Kiyoomi</span>
</p><p>
  <span>22:55 yes ofc</span>
</p><p>
  <span>22:55 saved your ass for not being here youre welcome</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To: Sakusa Kiyoomi</span>
</p><p>
  <span>22:55 thanks</span>
</p><p>
  <span>22:56 the usual excuse? i’m spending the night outside</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As it appeared, Kenma’s university was not completely blind to his online activities - his success on YouTube as well as on his gaming career was known to more people than he was necessarily comfortable with. It came with advantages, of course, such as their dorm supervisors' careful negligence in keeping attendance when either scrims with foreign teams or late recordings were mentioned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma hated abusing his job and his consequent status like this but seeing as their will to compromise ended with having him live at the dorms despite the inconveniences it caused, he was willing to stretch even his boundaries a little. Even though Kenma disliked social hierarchies and loathed acting on privilege, he was also petty in face of other people using his name as some sign of prestige. Sakusa understood this sentiment well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe they are actually letting you do that,” Kuroo commented idly. He leaned down when he talked, his breath brushing against Kenma’s neck as he laughed. They had been close before, Kenma’s side pressing against his, but they were even closer now. He shivered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma quipped back. “It’s not like they have a choice if they want to continue boasting about me on their website.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo threw his head back in a laugh, the arm Kuroo had thrown around him pressing Kenma into his side. “That’s harsh, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From: Sakusa Kiyoomi</span>
</p><p>
  <span>22:59 yep</span>
</p><p>
  <span>22:59 have fun with your boyfriend</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To: Sakusa Kiyoomi</span>
</p><p>
  <span>23:05 not my boyfriend</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>From: Sakusa Kiyoomi </span>
</p><p>
  <span>23:21 sure</span>
</p><p>
  <span>23:22 keep telling yourself that</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Kenma lifted his gaze from his phone, Kuroo's brows furrowed and he seemed thoughtful. Kenma wanted to wait out Kuroo’s silence but couldn't bear it when it started to drag on. “Is something wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Biting his lips </span>
  <span>–</span>
  <span> a habit he got from Kenma, Kenma absentmindedly noted </span>
  <span>–</span>
  <span> Kuroo stared at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. Then he looked at Kenma again, his hand twitching on Kenma’s stomach. “Does Sakusa do that often?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma put his phone down, sat up and turned towards Kuroo. “Call you my boyfriend, you mean? I guess he does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was not the reaction he had expected. “Oh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo was still not looking at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kuroo, look at me,” Kuroo listened, his eyes were swimming with emotion and it took Kenma some time to digest it. His eyes were questioning, unsure, doubtful. They were trusting, confident, hopeful at the same time.  With a deep breath, Kenma took a plunge. “Do I look like I mind </span>
  <span>–</span>
  <span> or even dislike </span>
  <span>–</span>
  <span> it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft laugh escaped Kuroo as he came to his own conclusion. His shoulders slumped, the tension draining. He seemed relieved. His arm was nudging Kenma’s. “Sometimes it really feels that way to me, too, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like they were dating. The late night texting, sometimes phone calls, the way Kenma had a key to Kuroo’s apartment and the way he spent his time there to the point Koutarou was never questioned in presence. The way Kuroo was his only exception to his strict recording schedule. How they went shopping together, talking like they were decorating their own home. How they would crawl into bed together. The way they always ended up touching each other, leaning against each other during their weekly hangouts - dates. Kenma knew. “Yeah, me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo laughed again. “Wow, this is not how I imagined my evening to go.” He cleared his throat and reached out for Kenma’s hand. “Want to make it official, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma snorted. “Is this how you ask me out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess so,” Kuroo laughed, the ridiculousness of the situation catching up to him, too. “This is kinda lame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are lucky I like you,” Kenma joked in return, poking Kuroo’s thigh just because.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo took to it immediately, smirking as he raised his eyebrow. He was being dramatic again. “Oh? You like me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t say anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, admit to it. You like me,” The grin on Kuroo’s face was huge, it made Kenma’s cheeks hurt. He was smiling, too. “Don’t worry I like you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like me, too, huh.” At this point, they were both grinning and Kuroo could no longer hold himself back, he burst into a laugh. Pulling Kenma closer, he wrapped both his arms around him, half-pulling him into his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems like we’ve been dancing around it long enough.” Kenma commented idly, smile tugging on his lips. The position Kuroo had pulled him in was awkward, so he adjusted himself by slipping completely into his lap, practically straddling him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands were resting on Kuroo’s chest and Kuroo was just staring at him in wonder. As by reflex, his hands had wandered to Kenma’s waist. The pressure and warmth was captivating. Kenma no longer had to deny the pull.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was already breathless when their lips met in a first touch, their kiss lingering. The hand against his waist tightened as his eyes fell shut. The realization of their kiss made Kuroo overflow with new vigor, as he leaned forward, tilting his head for a better angle. Their kiss grew more insistent, Kuroo’s hand wandering to the small of his back as gasps and huffs of air were swallowed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They kissed the way they did everything else, falling into place naturally. Running his tongue along the seam of Kuroo’s lips, Kuroo opened up for him with a low growl that got stuck in his throat. Kenma shivered in his hold. With a sigh, Kenma wanted to get closer as their tongues met again and again and again until Kenma’s world was spinning behind closed eyes. It shouldn’t be this easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that,” Kuroo’s voice was nothing but a breathy whisper and Kenma felt it low in his belly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma’s hand had wandered up to rest against Kuroo’s neck. He felt Kuroo swallow. He wanted to kiss him again. “It took you long enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re blaming me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up, Kuro,” he said but he undeniably sounded amused. Kuroo returned the sentiment but was willing to shut himself up, pulling Kenma in once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they kissed this time, Kuroo’s hand rose to the back of Kenma’s head, pressing him closer and angling his head. Kenma felt the way his nail scratched against his scalp, the way he curled his hair around his finger and it made him gasp. The nicks and licks were teasing, light and even though his eyes were closed, Kenma knew, felt, that Kuroo was smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Kuroo whispered, with each word brushing against Kenma’s lips, “I might not only </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> you, Kenma.” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Talk to me on |<a href="https://twitter.com/kentetsurou">Twitter</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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